Yesterday I joined my church's Resurrection Choir. It's the choir that sings only for funerals. When asked to join, I mentioned that "my voice is weak but I know music and can stay on key." And I'll give it a try. Even in spite of the sad occasion, I thoroughly enjoyed being a part of this. In the choir were several friends I knew; I met lots of new people. I felt very much welcomed and was asked to return.
The last funeral I attended was my father's, ten years ago. A former church musician for a good number of years more than twenty years ago, I've participated in many dozens of funerals over the years. The hardest were those of children, the younger, the sadder. I learned quickly that I could not even glance at the family or I, too, would cry.
The funeral yesterday was extremely meaningful. Our priest personally knew the deceased gentleman and told of how his final illness resulted in death but "he was at peace." That is important! The man's son gave a touching eulogy that brought tears to my eyes even though I never knew the man.
As a nurse, I was also involved in deaths. When my first patient died, I was so distraught that the physician, my colleagues, and the family had to comfort me! After that, I 'got a grip:' very sick people die. I noticed that all but one of the patients who died came to be in a state of acceptance, "peace." Many welcomed death to be a release of their sufferings. Except one man. He was terrified and said he saw 'demons' around his bed. He did not die in peace.
Yesterday's funeral started me thinking about my own funeral. Now we all know that God can 'call us home,' we can die, at any time of life. We all hope to live a long, happy, healthy life, and die in our sleep of old age. But only God knows when and how we will die. We can not avoid death and the better prepared we are for death, the happier our deaths will be.
I want to share with you an experience of mine in 1984. I had a bout of severe abdominal pain for which I went to the emergency room on a Wednesday afternoon at 5 p.m. After he examined me, my doctor kindly told me, "I think you have gallstones. You fit the picture: fair, fat, and forty. I want you to stay in the hospital and we'll run tests to make sure." The next day, the tests were negative. He told me, "Stay another day and we'll do more tests." On Friday, the tests also were negative. The doctor said, "I'm almost certain you have gallstones. You could have another attack at any time. I want you to stay in the hospital this weekend and we'll have Dr. _____ take out your gallbladder on Monday. So I stayed. I did not want a repeat of the pain so horrible I couldn't speak!
On Saturday I got homesick and got permission to go home for several hours. On Sunday afternoon, everything in my part of the hospital was very quiet, even though my room was across from the elevator. Looking out my third-story window, over the trees, the only thing I could see was the white cross on the top of my church's steeple. I started praying, "God, I could die from this surgery. People die during surgery. I don't want to die." I was very afraid.
That thought had hardly left my mind when I had the sensation of being gently lifted up in God's arms. He was very, very tall, wearing a long white robe, and I couldn't see his face. He was swinging me from side to side in his arms, as if I was a child. This was extremely comforting. Then the feeling disappeared. But I was no longer afraid.
The next morning, Monday, I was taken in to the operating room and put to sleep. Then I was awakened! I could not open my eyes but I could hear. I was told, "Janice, we're having to wake you up because we can't get the breathing tube down your throat. This happens about twice a year. Your throat is the size of a child's. We'll find the right size." I thought I was being choked to death. BUT I WAS NOT AFRAID! Then things went black.
The next thing I knew, I was aware of being back in my hospital room. It was night. I opened my eyes and realized I was alive and in my hospital room. I was disappointed. Recovery was uneventful. Later the surgeon said my gallbladder was, in fact, diseased and gave me a jar of the stones which I still have somewhere.
Before this experience, I admit that I was very afraid of death and put all thoughts of death out of my mind. Now, I'm at peace, I'm ready. But I'm not in a hurry!
When I was a little girl, my brothers and I would ask our dad, "Daddy, how old are you gonna be when you die?" He told us the same thing whenever we would ask, "I'm going to be 89." And he ended up dying when he was 89 years old!
My youngest daughter #8, Jeannie, was the only one of my children to ask me, "How old are you going to be when you die?" I told her, "I think I'd like to be a hundred." She quipped, "Mother, why limit yourself!" Not long after that I received a letter from a friend who mentioned that she never saw her mother any more because, "Mom's 73 and taking care of her 106-year-old mother." That is my new aspiration!! - live to be 106!
What do we have to do to get ready for death, to be at peace? We first need to get our worldly affairs in order. Even if you don't have very much wealth, you have something: make a will so the government doesn't take half. You don't want your relatives to fight over what you have left! Plan for you what you want done with your body and pay for it. Why burden your survivors with this decision and cost!
Personally, I'm not one to miss my deceased friends and relatives and have to visit their graves. I know they are not under the ground there, they are either in heaven or hell, and I pray daily that they are in heaven and I will meet them there in the future. I feel that after death, we certainly won't need our current bodies, that it's like cutting your fingernails - they were once a part of you but you no longer need them. I have donated my body to the University medical school so some use may be made of it when I no longer need it. Some people want to be buried, some want to be cremated. Make sure you make plans.
Another kindness to our survivors is getting rid of stuff we no longer use or need. We have to be careful here. I want to clean out stuff that someone else would use, throw out junk, but not anything one of my family might want. My dear mom and dad had several yard sales and sold many things I would like to have inherited. One of these days, I know I'll have to downsize, and that will be the perfect opportunity to shed my extra goods.
After the funeral yesterday, while we were putting away our music books, I overheard two ladies talking about someone they know who is an atheist. They shared, "It would be so sad to not believe there's nothing for you after death." Certainly! How do we prepare our hearts and souls for meeting God at death: live well! Find out how God wants us to live. Be the best, holiest, we can be! All we have to do is ask and God will help us. I don't want to find out the hard way with God asking me, "Who are you?" I'd like God to say to me, "Welcome home, Jan!"
Thank you for letting me share my thoughts with you on this Sunday, the Lord's Day.
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